Losing It
by drekadair
Summary: Cassie and Pritkin are caught in a tight spot, and the only way out is for Cassie to shift them to safety. Too bad Cassie hasn't finished the Pythian Rites. An alternative to Tomas and Faerie. One-shot. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**AN**: I've run into some bad writer's block on _Kiss to Savor_, so to help the plot bunnies breed I'm making a small diversion. This is set just before the tattoo parlor scene in _Claimed by Shadow_, and is completely AU from that point. Yes, it's a sex-or-die situation, which I think are pretty cheesy, but I've had this scene in my head for a while and figured I should just get it out before it damages something. I'm planning on only about three chapters. This is rated M for a reason, so if you're not interested in reading about hot, sweaty Prtikin/Cassie sex (in other words, if you're a crazy mutant), the "back" button is located in the upper left-hand corner of your screen.

**Disclaimer**: Unfortunately, I am not Karen Chance. This is too bad, because not only would I kill to write like her, I would also kill to have her paycheck. An unfortunate side-affect of all this is that I don't own any of her characters, settings, etc. They belong to her, and I'm not making any money from this.

* * *

**Losing It**

They were waiting for us when we came out of the tunnel. A shiny black BMW gleamed in the parking lot, one door ajar. I could just hear the plaintive open-door alarm over the rush of nearby traffic. A flashy red convertible was parked nearby, a fresh-looking human-shaped dent in its side and a small bunch of keys with a Dante's key chain lying on the ground nearby. Other than the cars and the mages, the parking lot was empty; a rusting metal-sided warehouse faced a cracked sidewalk.

I only noticed these details later because the instant I left the tunnel something hit me like a sledgehammer before my eyes could adjust to the bright Las Vegas sunlight. I went flying back into Pritkin, and we fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs. He struggled out from under me, swearing creatively, while I tried to remember how to breathe.

I could hear shouts and explosions, and when I finally managed to raise my head I saw ten men in bulky coats surrounding us. Pritkin stood protectively over me, his shields a pale blue dome surrounding us. I didn't have a lot of experience with mages, but I was pretty sure his shields weren't as strong as they had been this morning. The fight at the casino had taken a lot out of him, and ten against two were pretty bad odds.

"Can you stand?" Pritkin asked tersely.

One of the mages threw a spell that exploded against Pritkin's shield in a shower of sparks. Pritkin's shields held, but I could still feel the power of the spell. It wasn't as strong as anything the mages had been casting at Dante's, but it felt greasy and dirty. Dark mages. Great.

I pushed experimentally at the gritty pavement and managed to level myself onto all fours. The world swam around me and I stopped, waiting for it to hold still. Pritkin offered me a calloused hand and I took it gratefully. Once I was all the way up I held onto his shoulder to make sure I didn't fall back down again.

One of the mages giggled. "This is the Pythia?" he gave a pig-like snort, sounding not entirely sane. "She's just a little baby, ain't even figured how to walk yet."

Another man, with a nasty scar that puckered the left side of his face, leered at me. "You ever see tits like those on a baby? She's old enough to fuck—or be fucked."

A ripple of cruel laughter spread through the circle. I tried to keep the disgust off my face, but didn't have much success.

A third mage, the only woman, saw my expression and sneered at the man with the scar. "I don't think likes you, Bob. Must not be pretty enough for her."

He sneered back. "If she'll spread her legs for vamp, she'll spread her legs for anyone."

A dark mage called Bob. The ludicrousness of it helped me center myself, and the rage at the what they were saying about me helped me focus. I breathed in and out a few times to blow away the last of whatever spell they had hit me with.

"I can run," I murmured into Pritkin's ear.

He gave a tiny nod, not taking his eyes off the circle of mages. "Can you do what you did before? Take us somewhere else?"

I kicked myself for not thinking of it earlier. I may have been trying to avoid using the Pythia's power, but this was definitely an emergency. I reached for the power, pushing into that blind, falling darkness... and nothing happened.

I closed my eyes in despair. "No," I whispered back.

His lips thinned, but he didn't comment. "We'll make for the warehouse; it'll give us a little bit of cover. Do you have a gun?" When I nodded he said, "Good. Wait until they drop their shields to attack before firing, and don't shoot inside my shields. Got it?"

I nodded again.

We ran. The mages followed, shouting and hurling spells that exploded harmlessly against Pritkin's shields. A sturdy-looking padlock secured the door, but Pritkin blasted it off with a muttered word. He grabbed my arm and threw me inside, slamming the door behind him.

"That's not going to keep them out!" I was proud of how steady my voice was, even if it was a little higher than usual.

"I know that," Pritkin snarled back. He crouched and traced a few indecipherable symbols in the dust, muttering under his breath. A fireball smashed against the door, sending a wave of fire and splinters cascading over his shields. I was far enough back to avoid most of it, but bits of flaming wood still peppered my skin. He grabbed me and pulled me to the side, so we weren't directly in front of the ruined door.

Someone jumped through the doorway. I had my gun out and ready, but before I could even aim the markings Pritkin had made exploded with blue-white light. The mage screamed and was blown back out of the building, trailing white-hot tendrils of electricity. Screams and crackling sounds and the horrible smell of burnt flesh told me that the electrocuted mage had crashed into another.

I heard breaking glass overhead and looked up in time to see the woman burst through one of the high, wide windows. I had a second to wonder how she'd gotten up there before she crashed to the ground. Her shields cushioned the fall, and she was up on her feet in a second, a gun in one hand and a little orb in the other. Another mage darted through the doorway, and Pritkin dropped his shields to throw a spell at him. The woman raised her gun.

She didn't considered a skinny blonde clairvoyant to be a threat, so she hadn't even looked at me. Her gave fixed on Pritkin's back, she didn't even notice as I lifted my gun and shot her in the chest.

Red blossomed across her shirt. She stared at me in shock, her gun falling from her hand. She had blue eyes, I noticed, like mine only a little darker. She tried to heft the little sphere and I shot her again. The life went out of her blue eyes and she fell to the floor, staring sightlessly up at the dirty ceiling.

I only noticed the sphere move because I was staring down at her body, transfixed by what I had done. The little sphere skittered across the cement floor like someone had pushed it. For a moment I thought Billy had moved it, but I couldn't see him anywhere. This worried me for a brief second, before I realized I had other things to worry about. Two mages had managed to make it into the building, and one of them had grabbed the ball with a spell. He snatched it off the ground and threw it at me.

I dodged and the ball hit the wall behind me. It didn't explode, but I felt a wave of power wash over me. Suddenly I was falling, and I couldn't stop myself. As I went down, I saw Pritkin stagger, as if the ground had suddenly tilted under him. Then I was lying on the cold cement with the dead woman's blood seeping into my clothes, and everything went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** for those of you waiting for the next chapter of "Kiss to Savor", there will be a further delay because I have to do a little bit of rewriting. Don't worry, I will update! The next chapter of "Losing It" will be both the last chapter and the Big Sex Scene. Also, points to anyone who can spot the Sookie Stackhouse reference in this chapter :D

**Disclaimer:** although I take full responsibility for Bob and Jack, all recognizable characters belong to Karen Chance.

**Warning:** This chapter deal with nonconsensual sex. If this topic is extremely upsetting to you, you may want to use your back button at this time.

* * *

**Losing It**

I decided that I would never let Billy Joe borrow my body for a drinking binge ever again. I'd had hangovers before, but this was terrible. If he wasn't going to take care of my body, I wasn't going to let him use it.

Someone whimpered nearby, and I wished they would stop because the sound really made my head hurt. Then I realized the someone was me. With an effort of will I stopped the sound and forced my eyes open a crack. Thankfully there wasn't much light, but I hurt all over, which might have had something to do with the fact that I was apparently sleeping on the floor. I guess I hadn't made it to bed before I passed out.

"Are you awake?" someone asked. The voice was male and deep, and made my head pound. I closed my eyes again and tried to remember why the voice sounded so familiar. I hadn't taken someone to bed with me, had I? My heart raced for a few seconds before I remembered that I couldn't have a one night stand because of the _geis_. I was relieved, but only until my hurting brain recognized the voice.

"Pritkin?" I croaked. I forced open my eyes and tried to focus on the blurry shape leaning over me. "W—?"

"If you say 'Where am I?'," he interrupted, "I will hit you."

"I was going to say 'Where are _we_?'," I muttered, "but I'll settle for 'What happened?'."

Pritkin snorted, which made my vision go black for a second. "We were hit by a disorienting sphere. You were knocked out, but I was able to keep fighting for a while. They overwhelmed me, bludgeoned me into unconsciousness, and brought us here."

"Where exactly is 'here'?" My vision was improving, and I could focus now. I saw a small, dark room empty of everything: no furniture, no carpet, not even a light. The floor was dirty concrete, the walls unpainted wood. There were no windows; the dim light filtered in through tiny gaps in the walls. There was also no door, and I wondered how our captors had got us in here.

"I'm not sure where we are," Pritkin admitted. "I don't think I was unconscious for long, and I doubt they would have been able to carry us through the ley lines, so we are likely still in Nevada."

I didn't know what a ley line was, but it didn't seem to be important."What do you think they're going to do with us?" I tried sitting up, and was pleased to discover I could move without vomiting. Pritkin had folded his coat, divested of its weapons, under my head as a pillow, and I handed it back to him.

He took it. "Hand us over to the Black Circle. They will no doubt drain me, but I don't know what they want with you. The Circle is probably already on its way to collect us."

He seemed very calm for someone predicting his own death. "Hand us over?" I repeated. "You mean those mages weren't with the Black Circle?"

"With it, certainly, but part of it, no. They are hangers-on, criminals p0werful enough to attract the Circle's attention, but not powerful enough to warrant becoming members."

"So that's it?" I asked. "We just wait here for the Circle to come and kill us?"

"No." Pritkin gestured at our cell. "This room is warded. The wards are crude, but I cannot break them." He showed me his wrists, which were encircled by thick iron bracelets that looked like manacles. "These bind my magic. But you can get us out."

"Right," I said, but I felt a little uneasy. The last of the disorienting sphere's effects had worn off and I felt physically fine, but after I hadn't been able to shift in the parking lot I was worried the power would fail me again. But I had to at least try. I took Pritkin's hand, noting again the callouses. "Here goes."

I closed my eyes and tried to think of somewhere safe, someplace I could visualize clearly. Where...? Dante's would work. I pictured the lobby, with its rows of bright, noisy slot machines, reached for the power that would take us there... and felt nothing.

"What are you waiting for?" Pritkin demanded. "Shift us out!"

"I can't!" I said, too worried to snap.

"What do you mean you can't? You shifted us across an ocean and an entire century this morning!"

"Well, I can't do it now. The power won't come."

He narrowed his eyes. "It's being blocked?" He scanned the tiny room. "There is very little that can affect the Pythia's power, and I doubt our captors could craft such a complex ward."

I shook my head. "It doesn't feel like it's blocked, it just feels like it isn't there."

His head snapped around and he glared at me with open suspicion. "That makes no sense. If you are truly Pythia, as you claim you are, you should be able to control the power."

I sighed and stood up. "Look, I didn't get a manual with the job, okay? I don't have a clue about what I'm doing or how to do it. And this morning's joyride was not my idea."

He jumped to his feet. "That is not possible. The Pythia controls the power, not the reverse."

"Obviously it is possible, because it happened," I snapped back. "And instead of harping about what theoretically is or isn't possible, maybe you could apply some thought to getting us out of here."

"There is nothing I can do," he said, gesturing at the bracelets on his wrists. He sounded frustrated, and I couldn't blame him. After living your entire life with magic it must be infuriating not to be able to use it. It must be even more infuriating to have to depend on someone you don't even like, let alone trust, to save your life.

Especially when she doesn't know how.

As I fumed at my lack of training and at Agnes for dying without giving me any of said training, I remembered what she'd told me when she passed on the power: "_I suggest you complete the ritual as soon as possible if you expect to control the gift instead of vice versa... if you leave the ritual half done you will have imperfect control._"

I closed my eyes and groaned in despair.

"What is it?" Pritkin demanded.

I debated not telling him, since I didn't feel like discussing my sex life with him, but he'd just pester me until I did. "I didn't complete the ritual to become Pythia," I sighed. "That's why I can't control the power properly."

He stared at me blankly. "You haven't finished the Pythian Rites? But..." His eyes widened in shock. "You're saying that you are still a _virgin?_" He said like it was something possible but highly unlikely, like a UFO landing on the White House lawn.

I felt myself getting angry. "Not that it's any of of your business, but yes," I snapped.

He looked stunned. "I would never have considered that," he said.

I lost it. "Just because I wasn't raised with your pure-as-snow initiates in a walled garden guarded by eunuchs doesn't mean I'm a whore! I suppose you're like that dark mage, assuming that I screw every vampire I meet and that I'll spread my legs for anything with a cock!"

His face reddened. "That's not what I—"

But I didn't want his excuses. "Do you think I'm stupid?" I demanded. I was so angry I could barely see. "Of course that's what you think! From the instant you saw me you've done nothing but insult me, hate me, and try to kill me. And why? Because I was raised by vampires—which wasn't my choice—and because I'm Pythia—which I don't even _want!_"

The last word came out as a scream. Pritkin flinched, and I realized out face were only inches apart. In my fury I'd advanced until he was backed into a corner, and he held his hands between us as though he wasn't sure whether he was going to placate me or push me away.

Embarrassed that I'd lost so completely lost control, I backed off and looked away, feeling my own face color. Growing up at Tony's, I'd learned that showing emotion got you hurt, or worse. It was a good lesson, and I'd never forgotten it, but I guess the stress was getting to me. I took a deep breath of the hot, stuffy air and forced myself to calm down, to regain control.

"I may have made certain unfounded assumptions," Pritkin admitted stiffly, and then stopped. I got the feeling he wasn't used to admitting he was wrong.

Before I could decide whether I would accept his half-hearted apology, a door appeared in one of the walls. One minute there was just a stretch of bare, splintered wall, and the next there was a narrow, ill-fitting door, complete with a rusty doorknob. I gaped at it in astonishment, wondering where the hell it had come from, but Pritkin pushed me aside and crouched between me and it, fists raised. The door flew open with enough force to bounce off the wall behind it, revealing two mages. One was the scarred mage with the unlikely name of "Bob", but I didn't recognize the other. He had slick black hair and girlishly long eyelashes, and I was pretty sure he hadn't been part of the ambush.

Pritkin charged the mages and landed a solid blow on Bob's jaw. The mage rocked back, and I hoped he would fall onto his buddy so we could use the confusion to escape, but of course my luck's not that good. Bob staggered against the doorframe, shielding the second mage from Pritkin long enough for him to cast a spell. With the bracelets blocking his magic, there was nothing Pritkin could do to protect himself; sparks of electricity danced over his skin and he dropped to the floor, twitching.

I backed into the farthest corner as the two mages crowded into the tiny room. They were both large men, and they seemed even larger in such a confined space. There was no chance I could slip past them, and even less chance that I could take them down.

The black-haired one who had thrown the spell began tying up Pritkin with large quantities of stiff yellow rope, while Bob kept an eye on me. His eyes looked small and ugly in his mangled face. He saw me staring and licked his lips meaningfully. I remembered his crude comments in the parking lot and went cold.

When Pritkin revived enough to put up a fight, Bob turned and casually delivered a brutal kick to Pritkin's head. Pritkin became frighteningly still, blood oozing from a gash on his forehead.

"Not so tough without his magic, is he?" the strange mage sneered, wrapping rope around Pritkin's wrists.

"Shut up, Jack," Bob snapped.

Bob and Jack. I almost laughed at absurdity of it, but I knew that if I started I'd just go into hysterics. Weren't dark mages supposed to have powerful, intimidating names, like Antoine, or Basil, or maybe Langford?

Jack heaved the unconscious Pritkin into a corner. It looked like they'd hogtied him, but had added an extra length of rope running from his wrists to his neck. The rope looped around his neck in a noose, threatening to choke him unless he kept his back arched and his head high. Since he was currently out cold, I was afraid he would strangle to death, but there wasn't anything I could do about it because it looked like it was my turn.

I wasn't sure what they were going to do with me, since they didn't have any more rope, but I really didn't want to find out. I waited until Bob was almost on top of me, then kicked out with one bare foot. He turned at the last moment, and the blow hit him on the thigh instead of where I'd been aiming. His scarred face twisted grotesquely. For a moment I thought he was grimacing in pain, but then I realized he was smiling. He thought my attack was amusing.

Before I could try again, Bob grabbed my arm and dragged me away from the wall. I dug in my heels, but he moved my like I was made of paper. Jack grabbed me from behind, pinning my arms behind my back while Bob drew a knife from his belt.

I gasped and struggled, but I didn't scream or beg. I wouldn't give them that satisfaction, even as the knife flashed toward my chest. Pain stabbed through me, sharp and burning. A moment later it receded, and I realized with a shock that I was still alive. Bob had cut through the sequined corset and the strapless bra underneath, leaving a long but definitely not life-threatening gash between my breasts.

The corset and bra fell away, leaving me naked from the waist up. Sweat, from fear and from the heat, mixed with the blood running down my stomach. Jack craned his neck so he could look over my shoulder.

"Yum," he said. He had an ugly voice, thick and gravelly.

I thought fast. In the fight in Dante's parking lot, after I'd escaped MAGIC to find Jimmy the Rat, the dark mages had definitely wanted me alive. In fact, they'd been pretty interested in convincing me to go with them willingly. But then, they weren't exactly the most trustworthy of people. Plus, the Black Circle was allied with Myra and Rasputin, both of whom definitely wanted me dead. It looked like I couldn't use the "your boss will kill you if you hurt me" ploy after all. I'd have to find some other way of getting out of this.

"You're working for the Black Circle, right?" I said quickly. "If you rape me, they'll kill you."

Bob laughed pawed at my chest, his hands rough and sweaty. "The Circle wants you alive," he said. "As long as we don't kill you, they don't care what we do."

"They'll care if you make me Pythia."

"What's she talking about?" Jack muttered.

"Shut up," Bob snarled. He pushed his face close to mine. "What are you talking about?"

Up close, his breath smelled fetid and rotten. I gathered up my courage and spoke as boldly as I could. Never show fear to dogs and dark mages. "All that's keeping me from being Pythia is a hymen. You rape me, and your Circle's pet initiate will be out of a job—and I don't think they'll be too happy about that."

Bob shrugged. "So? They'll just kill you and the power will go to their little bitch."

Damn. I'd hoped he wouldn't think of that. "They'd have to catch me, first. Once I'm Pythia I'll be out of here before you can say 'sorry, boss'."

"She's lying," Jack growled into my ear. "She's trying to trick us. Let's fuck her, Bob."

"She's trying to trick us," Bob agreed, grinning unpleasantly. His teeth were surprisingly white and straight. I guess his bad breath came from dark magic rather than poor dental hygiene. "But I don't think she's lying."

"No!" Jack tightened his arms until my shoulders screamed in protest. "I _want_ her."

"You'll have her," Bob said soothingly. "First let's see if she's telling the truth about that hymen."

Oh, shit. He reached for the front of my tiny red shorts and I started struggling again. The zipper jammed, but he forced it open and pulled the shorts down my hips. They fell to the floor in a very small puddle of red satin. I'd put on a thong that morning—it felt like a lifetime ago—and I now realized that had been a mistake, though I suppose even a chastity belt wouldn't have made a difference. Bob didn't even bother with the knife, just pulled until one of the strings snapped.

A strangled gagging sound told me Pritkin was coming around. He struggled blindly against the noose before realizing he was choking himself. Once he figured out how his restraints worked, he arched his back, and some of the redness left his face. When he saw what our captors were doing to me, though, it returned with interest.

"Get away from her!" he shouted.

The two mages laughed, and Bob twisted my nipples until I cried out in pain. "What?" he mocked. "Don't like to share, knight? Tell me—" he shoved a hand between my legs and moved it suggestively. His touch was shocking and repulsive. "—is she as good as she looks?"

Pritkin swore and threatened them and called them every bad name I had heard and then some, but they only laughed at him again. I appreciated his chivalry, even if it was useless. Bob's finger's moved roughly between my legs, probing, and then suddenly he thrust two fingers into me. I forgot about my previous resolution not to give them any satisfaction and screamed. Only Mircea had ever touched me there, and that touch had been about sweet emotion, passion, and mutual pleasure. This was about control, humiliation, and pain, and I felt sick, violated.

Growling incoherently, Pritkin struggled against the ropes until his face turned purple from lack of air. Bob removed his hand, scowling, and I sagged in relief, though I knew the reprieve was only temporary.

"She's telling the truth," Bob said.

"But—" Jack protested.

"Shut up! Put her on the floor."

After a bit of maneuvering, which I did everything I could to resist, I wound up on my back on the floor. Jack still held my arms behind my back, forcing me to half-lie on his lap, with my head propped awkwardly against his stomach and the gritty concrete cold against my bare buttocks. I bent my knees and pressed my legs close together, trying to decrease my feelings of exposure.

Bob opened the fly of his jeans and pulled out his swollen sex. I clamped my mouth shut, refusing to scream again, but I could feel terror constrict my throat like the noose around Pritkin's neck. The mage did not try to pry apart my knees, as I had expected, but straddled my body instead. He bent his knees slightly and grabbed a handful of my hair, and I realized what he was going to do.

"Open your mouth," he told me.

I gave him a scathing look and kept my mouth shut. Did he think I was going to cooperate with him?

Apparently he didn't, because he let go of my hair to hit me. The blow knocked my head against Jack's chest and left me dazed, darkness clouding my vision. As I struggled to hold on to consciousness, Bob grabbed my chin and forced apart my jaws.

I am not a very violent person. Growing up a Tony's exposed me to enough violence to know that I wanted no part of it. But when Bob shoved his sex into my mouth, I wanted to kill him. I wanted to hurt him, to humiliate him, to take him apart piece by piece until he died. Later, the knowledge that I had the capacity to hate so strongly would scare me; now, it just felt good.

The cold, burning rage gave me the strength to wait until he pushed himself all the way inside me. I gagged, tasting bile in the back of my throat and feeling involuntary tears burn my eyes. Then I bit down as hard as I could.

Bob screamed in falsetto and wrenched his body away from me. I held on for a second, digging my teeth into his swollen member out of spite, before letting go. He collapsed to the floor, curled protectively around his injury, screaming hoarsely.

"What did you do, you crazy bitch?" Jack shouted in my ear. I turned my head and spat out a mouthful of blood. I was shaky with adrenaline, knowing things were about to go from bad to worse.

Bob levered himself into a half-sitting position, still holding his hand against his crotch. "I'm gonna kill you," he gasped. "I'm gonna fucking _kill you_."

Jack squeezed my arms until I was certain my shoulders would dislocate. "Can I fuck her first?" he asked eagerly.

"Yeah," Bob said, his eyes filled with malice. "Fuck her till she screams. Fuck her till she _dies_."

Things were getting a little worse than I had expected. Jack hauled me to my feet and slammed me face-first into the wall. For the second time in as many minutes my vision went dark. I felt Jack's hands leave my arms, and I tried to turn to fight him off, but the room lurched drunkenly and I had to grab the wall to stay standing.

By the time I could move again, Jack had seized my wrists. He shoved me roughly against the wall, and I felt the cotton of his shirt against my back and his hot, stiff sex against my buttocks. I will not scream, I told myself. I will not beg. But inside my head I was saying every prayer I knew, pleading for someone, anyone, to help me.

And then, miracle of miracles, someone did. Or some_thing_. Suddenly a wave of heat surged over my skin, and Jack fell back screaming. He collapsed onto the floor beside Bob, writhing and thrashing like he was being tortured. I didn't stop to question my good fortune. Bob's knife lay forgotten on the floor; I snatched it up and thrust it into Jack's chest.

His flailing threw off my aim, and the knife slid into his stomach instead of under his ribs like I'd planned. He redoubled his screaming and jerked away from me, the knife pulling free of his body with a sickening wet sound. Blood poured over my hand and spattered my arms and chest.

I held the knife awkwardly, wondering whether to finish him off or go for Bob. Bob answered the question for me by throwing the same spell Jack had used on Pritkin. I managed to throw myself aside in time to avoid most of it, but I still felt like I'd been hit by a taser. I staggered and fell to the ground, barely managing to avoid falling on the knife as it dropped from my suddenly nerveless hand. As I struggled to regain control of my twitching body, Bob grabbed Jack and dragged him from the room. The door shut behind them and vanished into the wall as if it had never been there at all.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN**: wow, this is a really long chapter! Thanks to everyone who reviewed (I'm looking at you, SenceLess, Trisha, onedaytoday, McCora, and Ma—er, SynethesiaTastesGrey).

For anyone who looked for the Sookie Stackhouse reference in the last chapter but couldn't find it, it's the names: Antoine, Basil, and Lagnford. Check the scene in _Dead Until Dark_ when Bill introduced himself to Sookie after she rescues him from the Rattrays.

I promise I'll get back to "Kiss to Savor" right away!

**Disclaimer**: however much I may wish I am, I am not Karen Chance, and all the recognizable characters belong to her.

* * *

A frantic gagging sound reminded me that Pritkin was still tied up. Feeling shaky and tired now that the adrenaline was wearing off, I staggered over to him and cut the rope connecting his neck and wrists. He slumped all the way to the floor, gulping down air. I tried to untie the knots, but they were too tight and my fingers kept trembling, so I used the knife to cut away the rope. He held very still while I worked, probably afraid that if he moved my shaking fingers would slip and cut his throat. He was probably right; the knife was slippery with Jack's blood, and I'm pretty sure that I nicked him a few times.

I dropped the knife as soon as I was done and turned away, showing Pritkin as little of myself as I could. My corset, bra, and thong were all ruined, but the tiny satin shorts were still in one piece. I pulled them on and immediately felt a little better. I was now decent enough for a topless beach. I started scrubbing at my bloody skin with the remains of the corset.

"Here," Pritkin said roughly. I half-turned, holding the corset against my chest, and found him thrusting his coat at me. It was ridiculously large on me, covering my hands and reaching almost to my knees, but I was extremely grateful.

"Are you alright?" I asked, zipping up the coat with nerveless fingers.

"Yes." His voice sounded terrible. I turned around and saw the ugly crease the rope had left in neck, purple and swollen and painful-looking. "And you?"

"I'm fine," I lied, because I didn't want to talk about it.

He looked doubtful, but didn't press. I was thankful for that. In fact, I was pretty thankful for him in general. He'd tried to save me from the dark mages in the parking lot, sacrificed his coat for a pillow while I was unconscious, half-strangled himself trying to save me from Bob and Jack, and then sacrificed his coat _again_. He'd also been rude, offensive, insulting, and had tried to kill me, but when it counted he'd been pretty decent. And to be fair, I'd sort of tried to kill him first.

I sat down on the floor with my back against the wall. With my knees drawn up to my chest, Pritkin's coat reached all the way to the floor, leaving only my toes exposed.

"What did you do?" I asked him.

Pritkin mirror my position against the opposite wall. The room was so small our ankles would cross if we stretched out our legs. "What do you mean?"

"What you did to Jack. What was it?"

He looked surprised. "I didn't do anything. Your _geis_ drove him off."

I stared at him in shock. "The _geis_ did that?"

"The spell was protecting you from an unauthorized... partner."

"But... why didn't it do something earlier?" Like when Bob was—I pushed the thought away. The way Casanova had explained it, the geis kept me chaste by altering my and Mircea's behavior, causing us to resent the attentions of an "unauthorized partner", as Pritkin had put it. I hadn't realized it could directly affect the unauthorized partner himself.

"I would guess the spell responds to the level of interest," Pritkin said, obviously thinking out loud. "Since you naturally evidenced no interest at all, the _geis_ was confused and did not immediately consider the dark mages to be a threat."

From the little I knew about magic that made sense. "So would it do what it did to him if I showed interest in someone besides Mircea?"

"I believe so, yes. The response from the _geis_ would be proportional to the perceived threat."

In other words, the greater the attraction, the greater the pain. I wasn't going to complain about what the _geis_ had done to Jack, but it infuriated me that Mircea had complete control over my sex life, especially when that control was about to get me killed.

"We're screwed," I said, more to the room than to Pritkin.

"Not... necessarily."

I gave Pritkin a skeptical look. "Did you think of a new plan? Because last time I checked, the only way out of here is for me to shift, which I can't do until I complete the Pythian Rites—and I can't do _that_ because of the _geis_. So the way I see it, we're screwed."

"There may be a way around the _geis_," Pritkin said cautiously. If it had been anyone else, I would have said he looked nervous.

"What? How?"

"I may be able to... override it temporarily."

I was doubtful. "Without any magic?"

Pritkin rubbed his hands distractedly against the bracelets. They looked incongruous on his otherwise bare arms, thick black lines harsh against his barely-tanned skin. "These are made with human magic, and so block human magic," he explained.

If he didn't get to the point, I was going to strangle him. "So?"

"I'm half demon."

It took me a second to understand, mostly because my brain was having trouble wrapping itself around the concept of _Pritkin_ being _half demon_. He'd shown a few unusual traits—super-fast healing for one—but he seemed so perfectly human, not to mention he hunted demons. A thousand questions popped into my head, none of them especially helpful in our situation. With an effort of will I made myself focus. The bracelets blocked human magic, but Pritkin didn't have just human magic—he had demon magic as well.

When he saw my "oh" of surprise, Pritkin continued. "I can render the _geis_ harmless while feeding."

I held up my hand, the too-long sleeve flopping absurdly. "Hold on. 'Feeding'? What kind of feeding are we talking about here?" I'd been fed on by vampires before and was pretty blasé about it, but I didn't know what kind of "feeding" demons engaged in. It might be something as potentially harmless as a vampire feeding, or it might involve tearing off chunks of my flesh and eating them raw.

"I can feed on life force through emotions—through sex."

I was a little slow, but I got there eventually. "You're half _incubus?_ How is that even possible? I thought incubi are incorporeal! Unless there's some other kind of demon that does that."

"There are a few," Pritkin said tightly. "But you are correct. I am half incubus."

"And you can use your incubus powers to solve our little dilemma." I wanted to be really clear on that, because the very thought of getting out of this alive made my heart race, but I didn't want to get my hopes up. He also hadn't answered my question, but I had more important things to think about than his conception.

"There are risks—" Pritkin began.

"Risks!" I almost screamed the word. "Less than five minutes ago I was almost raped! Less than five minutes from now I could be dead! Risks are not what I—"

"Miss Palmer!" I think it was the first time he had ever addressed me directly by name. I was so startled I closed my mouth and listened. "The last woman who had sex with me died."

I stared at him seriously. His hands clenched and unclenched rhythmically, and his face was red with strain. He looked like he was fighting the urge to get up and pace, or maybe punch something. His eyes were dark with pain. I didn't even want to know what terrible memories he was reliving inside his head.

"My control over my incubus powers is... inconsistent," he continued, his voice tight and harsh. "If I am unable to stop feeding, I may kill you."

"I don't think I have a lot of choice," I said quietly. "At least this way I have a chance of survival. My only other option is to wait for the Black Circle to kill me."

"You powers might manifest between now and then," Pritkin argued.

"Those are long odds. Besides, where does that leave you?"

"If you are Pythia, your life is worth more than mine."

I stared at him in shock. First he thought I was a child-killing demon, then he thought I was a morally corrupt, vampire-controlled Pythia wannabe, and now he suddenly decides that I'm the read deal. I shook my head. "That's crap. My life's worth the same as everyone else's. But if we don't get out of here soon, I'm not going to _have_ a life, and neither will you!"

His face was deadly serious. "You're sure?"

"Yes!"

And then we just stared at each other. I suddenly realized the depth of what I'd done: I'd cold-heartedly decided to lose my virginity to a man I barely knew, not for love or even lust, but simply for survival. I felt oddly dirty, like I was selling myself on the streets, with Pritkin as the client and our lives as the coin. I pushed the thought aside, but I still felt awkward. I desperately wished, instead of Pritkin, I was looking at Mircea, or even Tomas. It wasn't that Pritkin was unattractive—though he certainly wasn't in Mircea's league. I was just that he was unfamiliar, a near-stranger, and I was about to engage in a deeply intimate act with him.

Pritkin looked as awkward as I felt. He cleared his throat nervously. "Miss Palmer..."

"You may as well call me Cassie," I said, and then my eyes widened in mortification. "I don't even know your first name!"

He looked startled, then his lips twitched in something that might almost have been a smile. "John," he said.

"John?" I repeated incredulously.

He bristled, suddenly hostile for no reason I could see. "It's a good, honest, English name!"

I held up my hands placatingly. "Sorry, you just don't seem like a John."

"Then call me Pritkin," he said irritably. "It makes no difference to me."

It didn't seem fair to ask him to call me Cassie while calling him Pritkin, but he really didn't seem like a John. "Pritkin, then," I said. I stood up, discovering that I had become stiff while sitting. "Let's, uh, get this—done." I almost said "over with", but caught myself at the last minute. He might be just as attracted to me as I was to him—which is to say, not at all—but I didn't have to be rude about my lack of interest.

He stood up as well, and we had another long moment of mutual awkwardness. Finally he muttered something that sounded like a swearword—though it wasn't one I'd ever heard—crossed the tiny room, and kissed me.

I'd learned a lot about this man in the last few hours. I'd learned he was half demon, that his first name was John, and that he knew how to kiss very, _very_ well.

Maybe it was because he was part incubus, or maybe he'd just had a lot of practice—he had said he'd lived through Victorian England, which made him a lot older than he looked—but within a few seconds I'd completely forgotten my previous nervousness. The kiss was gentle, even tender, but I sensed he was holding back, and suddenly I didn't want him to hold back at all.

I ran my fingers through his crazy, messed-up hair, and found to my surprise that it was deliciously smooth and soft. I would have been happy to just stand there and pet him for a while, but he responded to the encouragement and deepened the kiss. His tongue slid between my parted lips and twined with mine. When we broke apart we were both gasping for breath, and his pupils were dilated.

Somehow I wound up with my back against the wall. His hands moved from my shoulders to my back and slid down, but the thick, bulky coat got in the way. I let go of his hair long enough to undo the zipper, then let my hands do some exploring of their own. He had wonderful shoulders, broad and strong, with a muscular chest and abs I could feel through the fabric of his t-shirt. I pulled the shirt over his head while he pushed the coat off my shoulders. I hadn't realized just how hot it was inside the coat until I felt the relatively cooler air against my skin.

Then his hands were on my skin, and they weren't cool at all. His fingers smoothed across my shoulder blades, down my spine, then back to my shoulders so he could trace the outline of my breasts. I pressed my mouth against him, feeling the stubble along his jaw, licking away the sweat on his neck, marking his shoulder with my teeth. He moaned as I bit him, tightening his hands around my arms until I felt his blunt fingernails digging into my skin. Then his hands slid lower, grasping my waist and lifting me.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and my legs above his hips, feeling his growing hardness press against me in a very sensitive spot. In this new position his head was level with my chest, and he nuzzled his face between my breasts, licking and kissing. My skin felt hypersensitive, every scrape of stubble, stroke of tongue, and graze of teeth magnified until I whimpered and trembled at the sensations. A deep, insistent warmth radiated from below my navel, and I rocked my hips, trying to gain some small relief by rubbing myself against the bulge beneath his jeans. Pritkin moaned again and moved to my nipples, flicking his tongue gently and repeatedly over one, then the other. My breasts were badly bruised from Jack—no! I _would not_ think about that—but the light, fluttering caress brought nothing but pleasure.

Suddenly I couldn't take it any longer. I wanted _more_ so badly my head swam. I let go of his shoulders—with my back against the wall and my legs around him I wasn't going to fall—and slid my hands across his chest and back. His skin felt hot, burning hot, and my fingers tingled wherever they touched him. I found an intriguing set of scars above one shoulder blade, slick white ridges like claw marks. I wondered what could have caused permanent damage to him, since he seemed to heal so well, but I couldn't concentrate on the thought and quickly forgot about it. His chest was lightly covered with dark gold hair, gloriously soft against his hard muscles, and I dragged my fingers through it, finding a nipple to rub.

He moaned again, and I felt a cool breeze move through the hot, stuffy room. It wrapped around my body like a living robe, sliding against my skin in a silky caress. Pritkin's voice deepened, became husky, and he let his head rest against my breast for a moment, his eyes closed in bliss. Then he stiffened and leaned away.

"I'm sorry," he gasped. "Just give me a minute."

So that was what an incubus feeding felt like. He stood motionless except for the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Where my hands rested against his pecs I felt the movement of each breath, the frantic beating of his heart. He was clearly struggling to regain control, and while ending up as his lunch wasn't high on my agenda, suddenly death by sex didn't seem so terrible. I wanted him so badly I didn't care if he fed from me; I wasn't sure I cared if he drained me.

Then he lifted his head and I reconsidered. His green eyes had gone dark jade, but only the thinnest ring of color remained, burning around dilated pupils. His gaze was fevered and a little unfocused, and filled with barely-contained violence. I felt like I was standing just out of reach of a very angry tiger in a too-small cage. It was beautiful—and absolutely terrifying. More than a little frightened, I held still and watched him struggle to regain control—for about thirty seconds. Completely against my brain's commands, my hands started stroking over his chest and sliding lower, to the waistband of his jeans.

He started, causing me to slide a few inches down the rough wall. Splinters stabbed at my back and I yelped in pain. A few very confused moments followed as I tried to scramble out of his arms and he tried to get a better grip on me. When I finally I managed to get my feet under me, his pupils had shrunk to a more reasonable size and he looked calmer.

I, on the other hand, didn't feel calmer at all. I thought that if things didn't go a lot faster very quickly I would go insane. Sweat glued my hair to the back of my neck and my breath came in quick gasps. I fumbled with the fly of Pritkin's jeans, but my fingers couldn't seem to manage the button. I gave a frustrated growl and he pushed my hands aside, undoing the button and zipper himself. As the denim fell the floor in stiff folds, I learned something else about Pritkin: he went commando. There was nothing between me and the long length of his sex—and boy, was it long. I didn't have a tape measure handy, but I guessed he had to be at least as big as Mircea, maybe even a little bigger. I licked my lips involuntarily.

Pritkin's breath hitched and he toed off his boots, along with his socks, which I thought was nice; I'd always found the thought of a man leaving his socks on during sex rude, like he would put his shoes back on and leave as soon as he was done. I was glad Pritkin wasn't that type. Part of me wanted to take it slow, to savor his body while I could, but most of me just _wanted_. I wrapped my hand around him, savoring the hardness, the heat, and velvety softness of him. His breath hitched again, and I marveled at how much control I had, that I could make him gasp and moan just by touching him.

I stroked my hand up and down his length, traced my finger around the ridge exposed by his uncut foreskin, scraped a nail gently across the very tip of him. He shuddered, and then I was on the ground, lying on his coat, without any real idea of how I had got there. Pritkin knelt between my bent knees and stared up the length of my body, his hands on the edge of my tiny red shorts, his eyes asking a silent question.

"Yes," I gasped. "Yes!"

He stripped away the shorts, and my certainty flagged. Pritkin was about to know me better than my gynecologist, and I barely knew his first name. I wished we could go slower, way slower—like maybe so slow we put some clothes back on. The doubts warred with the insistent heat between my legs that demanded _more_, _more_, _more_. And then his blonde head lowered to meet my body and the doubts vanished.

His tongue moved over me, soft and wet and warm, and I thrilled at both the pleasure and the novelty of the sensation. As his hands smoothed across my thighs and stomach his mouth teased my center, licking and stroking and kissing as passionately and skillfully as he had kissed my mouth. I knotted my fingers in his stupid, stupid hair and willed him to go _faster_, _harder_, but he took his sweet time. Sweat slicked my neck and breasts, and I gasped at the hot air, my vision blurry with I need. I was certain I would go insane, or die, but finally he picked up the pace. One of his hands joined his mouth, and a single finger slid into me.

I jumped a little, not in pain, but in surprise at the unfamiliar sensation. He hesitated, and looked up the length of my body, waiting for permission to continue. His pupils were dilated again, but the expression that had frightened me before seemed incredibly sexy now. I tried to remember how to speak, failed, and managed a ragged nod instead. That was all the encouragement he needed, and soon a second finger joined the first. The pressure and friction felt amazing, but it wasn't nearly enough.

He moved the his fingers in and out, slowly at first, then faster, while his tongue continued to move. I closed my eyes, feeling pleasure build inside me. My hips rocked in time with his movements, without any conscious thought. At some point he'd started feeding again, and the cool, sensual breeze wrapped around me, stroking places he could no longer reach. The combined sensations pushed me closer and closer to the edge, until colors exploded behind my eyelids and my body arched helplessly under hands.

Before I had recovered from the wave of pleasure, Pritkin was kneeling over me. He claimed my mouth in a hard, hungry kiss that left me gasping for breath. When he lifted his head, the effort it took to restrain himself was visible in his sweat-streaked face and trembling muscles.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice hoarse with need.

"Yes," I gasped, and my voice was just as hoarse.

He didn't warn me that it would hurt, and I felt confident that was not an omission on his part. He knew I knew it would hurt, and that I was adult enough to accept that and deal with it. My opinion of his slid up a notch—and then he slid into me and I forgot all about it.

It did hurt as he slowly entered me, forcing my body to expand to accommodate his width. I bit my lip at the burning, aching pain, but it wasn't very bad and the pleasure more than made up for it. It was the friction of slick skin against slick skin and the heat of him filling me that made me gasp, not the pain.

Pritkin somehow knew he wasn't hurting me, because the next stroke came faster, and the next faster still, until his steady rhythm had me whimpering and moaning under him. The pleasure was so intense I felt like I was drugged; I writhed and cried out without any control at all, every stroke, ever kiss, every caress igniting hypersensitive nerves. His eyes were completely black now, with no green at all, and he was still feeding. A tiny part of me wondered how much he could take safely, and if he would be able to stop, but I couldn't hold on to the thought, or any thought at all. I felt the pressure building inside me again, gathering beneath my navel and growing until I thought I simply couldn't take it, that no one could survive such pleasure.

And then it broke, washing over me in wave after wave as I convulsed under Pritkin's body and a beautiful golden glow washed over the barren room. At first I thought the light was just part of the incredible sensations coursing through me, but then a wash colors, sounds and scents crashed over me, and everything vanished. I could no longer see the room, or Pritkin, just an enormous vortex of power rushing at me.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. I found myself sitting on a hill overlooking the sea, with a temple rising above me. The sun blazed overhead, and I squinted against the intensity of the colors after so long in the dim room. Someone sat close behind me, brushing lips against my ear.

"A poor choice, Herophile," a male voice said.

"My name's Cassandra," I corrected. "And what's a poor choice?"

"Your choice of partners. His kind and mine have been feuding for eons."

I was confused, until the setting really sank in and I realized who I was talking to. "He's only half demon," I told Apollo.

"Close enough," he said airily, waving his arm so I caught a glimpse of bright yellow hand.

I didn't like him casually tarring Pritkin with his father's brush. "This is sort of a bad time," I said. "Aside from the whole _in flagrante delicto_ thing, I need to escape before Myra can kill me."

"Oh, I trust you can deal with your rival," Apollo said.

"Then you're crazy," I said flatly. "I don't know how to—"

Before I could finish the sentence and rush of heat and wind surrounded me and a terrible, ancient power surged through the ground and into my body. And then I was back in the hot, dark room as though nothing had happened.

Pritkin's rhythm had become ragged and uneven as his own passion overcame him. The cool breeze became a freezing wind that swept over my body, leaving my muscles weak as water. His pupils expanded until they were wider than his irises, swallowing the whites of his eyes, and he shuddered, finishing inside me in delicious, scorching rush. His pleasure washed over me and I went under again, arching my back as he arched his, crying out as he cried, and we became nothing more than five senses loosely bound by skin, and then even the skin disappeared, leaving us a single entity united by shared sensations, with no separation between one body and the other.

I slowly became aware of someone shaking me and shouting in my ear. That made me realize I was _someone_, with a body I shared with no one, and skin, fingers, and all the other things that went with it. When I remembered I had eyes, I opened them, not quite sure when they had closed. Pritkin's face drifted into focus, his face flushed but his eyes wide with fear. His pupils were back no normal, I noticed, before he shook me again.

"Miss Palmer! _Miss Palmer!_"

"Stop shaking me!" I snapped—or tried to. It came out more of whispered plea.

Pritkin stopped shaking me, but didn't release my shoulders. Instead he pulled me close to his chest, wrapping his coat around me so I was surrounded by warmth. I started to protest that the room was too hot, but I realized with a shock that I was freezing cold. I pressed myself gratefully against his bare chest, and discovered that I felt weak as well.

"What...?" I whispered.

"I lost control," Pritkin said harshly. "I took too much. You're lucky to be alive."

"Oh." I rested my head against his shoulder, noting absently that we were both still naked. Our lovemaking may have nearly killed me, but it had also left me with an amazing afterglow, and I was content to just lean against him and let myself drift. His body felt tense beneath me, but after a minute or so he began to slowly relax, and he rested his chin on the top of my head. My life had been so crazy these past few weeks that it felt wonderful to just hold someone, and be held in return.

"Pritkin?"

He turned his head slightly, so we were practically nose-to-nose. The urge to kiss him seemed so natural it took a real effort to resist. "Yes?"

Before I could speak, I heard loud voices from outside our cell. They sounded distant, but they were getting closer.

"Shit!" I scrambled out of his arms, reaching for my shorts. "We have to get out of here!"

Pritkin jumped to his feet and pulled on his jeans. "Can you shift?" he asked doubtfully.

"I don't have much choice, do I?" I thrust my arms into his too-large coat.

"Yes, you do." His head emerged from the neck of his tee-shirt. Even after undressing, sex, and redressing, his hair looked the same. What on earth did he do to it? "They won't kill you now; you could wait until later, after you've regained your strength."

"Yeah, and they could drug me, or knock me unconscious, or do any number of other things that would keep me from shifting. Plus, they might separate us." I grabbed his hand. "You may be really annoying, but I won't leave you behind to die."

There was a very odd look in his eyes as he opened his mouth to speak, but I never found out what he was going to say. The door reappeared in the wall and flew open with a crash. I reached for my power and shifted.


End file.
